


We Found Love in a Parking Space

by Spocksandshoes



Category: Den lengste reisen | The Longest Journey
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern AU, PTSD, Roommates, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6678577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spocksandshoes/pseuds/Spocksandshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Likho was getting on fine with civilian life before some shithead decided to steal his parking space for a few weeks.<br/>As it turns out, keying the car of the person who wronged you is not always the best way to handle situations.</p><p>But sometimes, it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Found Love in a Parking Space

Likho didn't ask for much.  
He wanted a quiet apartment. He wanted a fridge full of food. He wanted to start a new life here, and he wanted to be left alone.

That wasn't too much to ask for.

His apartment seemed to be mostly made of wood and overlooked an old-timey square with a fountain and farmers market. In the old part of the quaint little city of Marcuria, it was warm and sunny and safe, smelled of baking constantly from the markets and the neighbours were nice and mostly kept to themselves. It was good enough for him 

It was..nice here. Likho only wished he was comfortable with it, but everything stank of civilian life, and it still hadn't been long enough to feel like he belonged back there.

And on this particular day, it was very clear that he was _shit_ at living normally. 

After a night of dozing in patches interrupted by violent awakenings, the alarm shrilled far too early. He groaned and craned his head from the drool-damp pillow, feeling like an undead, unwashed mess. But the alarm didn't shut up til he smashed his hand against the snooze button.  
On his third try to do just that, his knuckle cracked against the edge of the nightstand and he jolted to wakefulness, cursing loudly.  
Awake in the quiet room, he grumbled and threw the covers off, standing and padding naked to the door, sucking his knuckle.  
The shower water was doing its best to dribble from the spout as slowly as possible, and the invigorating cucumber shampoo cheerfully trickled over his forehead and right into his one good eye, making him swear at the sting and stumble blindly for a towel. The ducky-patterned shower curtain, left over from the last owner, didn't help by being clammy and damp and sticking to his calves at every available opportunity.

Red-eyed, tired, with a bruised knuckle and still vaguely damp from the stupid shower, he trudged into the small open-plan kitchen to make coffee. Tipping the milk carton, he watched in irritated defeat as the milk spewed chunks the consistency of bad yoghurt into his mug, splashing hot drops of coffee into his hand. 

Likho reminded himself not to throw the cup through a window, and went to put on some pants.

Keys in hand, he headed out of his apartment and down the small staircase that lead to the communal front door. He shut the door, took two steps into the brisk air, and pulled open his car door. Yes, his parking spot was the best one in the building. Two steps from the front door, and Likho was fairly smug about it. He took a moment to savour the one easy thing about his day so far, and started the drive.

Half an hour later, loaded with fresh milk, an armful of other crap he needed and a box of dohnuts, he pulled back unto his street, deciding that his day was getting better- and there was a cream coloured Nissan parked in his spot.

Affronted, Likho parked around the corner, and glared at the car as he passed.

It was gone by morning, and Likho reluctantly decided to let bygones be bygones.

The next day he arrived home from work and the car was there again. At rush-hour, he ended up parking on the other side of the marketplace and walked back in the rain, seething.

It was a shit car, too. A 15 year-old model and well-maintained, but still shit.

He glared at it for around 10 minutes out of the window before going and trying to concentrate on fixing a neighbours leaky faucet.

''You look pre-occupied, dear.'' Mrs. Alsan told him, peering through her spectacles in a particularly owlish manner.  
''Someone keeps parking in my space.'' Likho grunted, glaring at the mess of damp pipes under the kitchen sink.  
''You need a hobby dear, something to take your mind off things.''

Likho had a new hobby: hating the asshole who kept invading his space.

The car was back the next day, and the next- it seemed like any time he took his own car out, that stupid Nissan appeared to ruin his day.

It happened again. And again.

And again.

It followed him everywhere, a lurking, niggling thought, through the aisles of the grocery store, through the late-night gym when his nerves got bad, during work hours, even in his goddamn dreams.

On a day when his temper threshold was particularly low, he even wrote a snotty letter telling them to fuck off and fully intended to jam it under the windshield wiper the next time the car appeared, but he reluctantly had to admit that if someone did that to him he'd want to punch them in the throat, so he crumpled the paper and lobbed it into the waste-paper basket. It bounced off the rim and settled on the pile of other crumpled tissues and tissues.  
After checking that he was in fact alone in his own living room, he celebrated with a rather deadpan fist-pump.

But the problem of the car persisted- it was like the driver just decided this was their space. That the person who _paid_ for the fucking space didn't need to use it themselves. 

Three weeks after this shit had began, a frustrated Likho had to send his car in for routine maintenance, and spent the Saturday morning glaring out the window, keeping watch. The space remained clear. It was only when his bladder won the battle and he went for a leak that the sound of a car-door had him scrambling for the window.  
And sure enough, when he reached the window there sat the offending vehicle, the driver long gone.

''BASTARD!'' Likho roared, smacking a fist against the glass, causing the pane to rattle.

After a further two weeks of this, Likho snapped.

It was somewhere after dark, and he was tired. Work had been shit and the streets were busy and the stress was slowly peaking. The thought of a quiet doze on the couch and a warm meal were the only things keeping him going through the shitfest . Fingers wearily clenched on the leather of the steering wheel, he pulled into the street, and-

No, no no no no NOT FUCKING AGAIN.  
The car sat there, stupid and smug, in his space, and Likho broke. 

He parked in the nearest available space, grabbed his keys from the ignition and stormed across the road, keys clenched painfully in his fist. The soft cream of the cars paint-job nearly crumbled under the pressure as he dug the point of his key into the metal of the door and dragged it across the paint with a grim satisfaction. 

FUCK this car, and FUCK the driver.

He stood back and looked at his handiwork, drawing in a deep breath. God, that catharsis felt good.  
Unable to let it go, he circled the car to the driver's seat and repeated the process, watching the grey stripe of metal appear as the key scraped the paint away. Tossing the keys in one hand, he turned to head inside, and stopped.  
A man stood watching him from near the door. He was tall and broad, maybe an inch or two shorted than Likho himself. Brown-skinned, bearded and serious-looking, he stood quietly, watching Likho with his brow furrowed. 

''Is there a problem?''  
''Is this your car?''  
''Yes.''  
''Then too right there's a fucking problem.'' Likho glowered furiously at the stranger. ''Stop parking in my fucking parking space!''

The man's eyes flickered from the car to Likho, weighing up the situation. ''It won't happen again.'' He said. 

''Good.'' Likho growled, and slammed his way into his apartment, trying to outrun both the anger and the embarrassment of being caught.  
He spent the evening simmering in triumph, listening to the rain begin to drum against the window. Around 11, he pulled himself off the couch, switched off the TV, and went to bed. Maybe it was an old instinct, but he checked outside first. The street was quiet , the rain falling in sheets and soaking everything. But the car was there, parked defiantly still in his place.

Likho was going to kill him, he was going to-

Likho squinted, scrambling for the prescription glasses he never used and shoving them on his nose, peering back down at the street. He was looking for an overhead view, so it wasn't clear, but the curved window reflected something in the backseat. Feet, from the looks of it, tucked up on the backseat.

Likho stood back, shut his eyes, and took a slow breath, feeling like the biggest bastard in the world.  
The man was living in his goddamn car.

''Oh fuck you.'' Likho said aloud, to himself.

The man started awake when Likho knocked on the window. He pushed himself up on one elbow, the design of the seat embedded into his cheek. He didn't look too happy to see Likho, and yeah. Fair enough.  
''I'll be gone by tomorrow.'' He cranked down the window a crack to speak, and Likho shook his head, having to speak louder over the torrential rainfall.

''Streets' flooding. '' He paused, not sure how to go about this. ''C'mon in.''  
The man looked unimpressed.  
Likho exhaled sharply. ''I'm not some freak, there's a storm coming and I have a spare room, are you coming or not!?''

There was a pause, and the man moved, grabbing a gym-bag from by his feet with one hand, and pushing open the door with the other. Likho moved to hold the umbrella over the man as well, and it gained him a wary look, but a nod of gratitude.

Splashing through the puddles, they made it back into the apartment, tramping up the stairs and into the warm little apartment.  
''Towels are there, bathrooms there if you need a shower. That' s the spare room.'' Likho jabbed a curt thumb in the direction of everything as he walked, well aware that he was well on the way to mastering the art of being nice while still acting like a dick. 

There was a pause, and the door to the spare room clicked shut.  
Likho spent a moment giving himself a judgemental look in his own hall mirror. He had assumed the man was in for the night, but he was halfway through making sure everything was switched off when the bedroom door clicked open and his guest stepped back into the hall. He was in a green t-shirt and plaid summer shorts- shorts that looked fairly ridiculous, but Likho kept his mouth shut.  
It may have been all the man had.

''I never said thank you.'' The guest said after a moment of sizing up the room with a brooding, over-serious look that Likho was starting to suspect was his default expression. The beard and heavy brows weren't helping the- what had Enu called it before? Resting Bitch Face.

''Don't.''

The man shrugged. He was looking around the apartment like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like Likho was hiding a bear trap or a sex dungeon under the fucking table.

''Why did you let me stay?''

''After keying your car? I didn't realise you were living in it.''

''I don't need pity.''

''I'm not giving you pity, I'm giving you a room.''

The man considered Likho for a moment, and nodded faintly. He looked to be around Likho's own age, his forehead creased with frown lines already. Lines of ink ran over his cheekbones in steps and dots. Handsome, but genuinely _unsettling_ , at the same time.

''There's food in the fridge. TV's got basic channels. Don't disturb the neighbours or take anything and we'll get on just fine.''  
There was a shift in the man's shoulders, and Likho realised how accusatory that sounded. Fuck it, he'd been on his own for too long.  
Of course, homeless men had to be thieves. 

''Don't worry.'' The man told him, and Likho didn't miss the slight edge in his voice. ''There's nothing here of interest.'' He went to investigate the fridge, and Likho was left staring indignantly after his guest. Did that man just snark back? He was a little impressed.

 

''Kian.'' The man said the next morning over breakfast, and Likho paused, looking up from his muesli. 

''What?''

''My name. You never asked.''

''You never offered.

''Well It's Kian.''

''Likho.''

''That's an..odd name.''

''My mother was obsessed with myths from the old country. She nearly laughed when this happened.'' He jabbed towards his left eye, with the paler, clouded iris, surround by a lattice of scars. ''Ironic woman.''  
The man's lips pulled up at the corners for a moment, and he went back to shovelling down his food.  
''How'd you lose the sight?''

''Military. Shrapnel.'' His fingers tightened on the spoon, and felt Kian watch him for a moment.  
''Nice to meet you, Likho.'' The man said instead, and he felt slight gratitude at the change of subject.

''Even after I keyed your house?''

''I shouldn't have parked in your spot. We'll call it even.''

After breakfast, Kian found his bag, and shook Likho's hand. His grip was pleasantly firm, and Likho got the sudden impression that this man was more suited to a better lifestyle. His accent was surprisingly cultured even if his social graces were lacking.  
His nail beds were neat and his palms calloused. It was such a mess of personality that Likho had a strange compulsion to ask him what fuck kind of background he had, but instead he gripped the man's hand in return, and nodded.

''There's a gym around the corner.'' He said suddenly, despite his better judgment. ''24-hour. Showers and lockers, and the membership is pretty cheap. It's next to the Co- the Rooster and Kitten Bar. Down Ayrede street.''

''Thank you.'' Kian said after a pause, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.  
Likho got ready for work, and by the time he headed out, the car was gone.

 

''Y'know, that was fairly dickish.'' Enu told him in the staff-room, leaning over to pierce one of the cherry tomatoes in his salad with her fork, and he let her. The lunchroom was uncomfortably packed, and the salad was shit anyways. He didn't know why he'd even brought it along.  
''Keying a car? The poor guy!''

''Yes, I'm aware.'' Likho said through gritted teeth, and Enu's expression changed from one of judgement to empathy.  
''Hey, it's not so bad! You helped him out! So it's all okay.'' Enu smoothed it over with the skill of someone who dealt with children's squabbles on a daily basis. And it some cases, that calm positivity also worked for PTSD-riddled ex-vets who had trouble admitting they were wrong. ''You did your good deed. We all screw up sometimes, right?''

He nodded, staring at his food.  
''Besides.'' She leaned in conspiratorially. ''Was he cute?''

He felt himself snort before he could stop himself. 

 

Work was overseeing a soccer game and breaking up a fight in the changing rooms.  
The life of a Elementary-school Gym Coach was not an exciting one, but he liked it that way. The kids had called him Couch Grouch for the first few months, til he scared the shit of some rival schools students while they were giving his own kids trouble on a sports day, and since then Coach Grouch was nearly a fond nickname.  
The kids caused as much trouble as they could, but it reminded him to keep himself in check. Keeping a steady job and making sure his kids were okay made him feel like he was contributing to society.

He got home, cranky and tired, and sighed in relief as his parking space was free.  
It was free the next day too. And the next.

For the next two weeks, life had resorted to normal.

 

Two weeks later, he met Kian again. 

It was pushing 3am and he had woken up an hour ago, but his heart still jackhammered in his chest and every creak in the building was an enemy footstep, a gun being loaded, a neck being snapped. Sweaty and aching for sleep, Likho groaned in irritation and rolled out of the bed, scraping his hair back into a bun and fumbling for his glasses. 

His gym bag was packed and waiting at the bottom of his bed- which it itself was a sad indicator of his life- and he snatched it and headed out the door.

The gym was nearly dead. Some girl was going H.A.M on the elliptical, techno blaring from her headphones. Likho got unto a treadmill and ran til his breath rasped in his throat and his pulse hammered in his ears and the sweat dripping from his forehead threatened to blind him. He stopped when his legs wobbled and wanted to collapse. Staggering to a bench, he sank unto the seat and forced himself to breathe. Greedily gulping down the contents of his water bottle, he sat there, a sore sweaty wreck, til the demons were safely locked in the back of his head again.

When he made it back to the changing rooms, Kian was standing in his boxers, drying his hair off with a towel.  
There was a distinct awkward pause as he looked up and saw the dishevelled man staring at him.

''You took my advice.'' Likho went to his locker, punching in the code, 0-7-2-6, his Fathers birthday, and pulled out his bag. 

''One better. I applied for a job. Peter on the Front desk has prison tattoos, so I thought they might hire a homeless man.''

''And they hired you?''

''On the spot. Mostly night-shifts.'' 

He kept his back to Kian, double-checking everything in his bag. He'd shower at home. ''Good. Uh, good job.''  
He could almost feel the other man raise an eyebrow at him, and he did his best not to frown. ''It's hard to get back into society.'' He explained gruffly, keeping his eyes firmly on the bag as he zipped it back up and slung over his shoulder.  
Fuck this guy, he didn't have to explain himself.

He straightened up, about to make his escape, and the next thing he knew he was on his knees, forehead pressed to the blessedly cool floor. There was a sharp pain throbbing right in the top of his skull like someone had driven a nail in there.  
A heavy, warm hand pressed to his back, and someone was saying something in a comforting rumble, but Likho managed a 'nggh' in return. His brain felt liquidized. Shit, had he been shot!?  
A hand flew to his skull, but a gentle palm caught his wrist, and the soothing voice rumbled some more til his ears could make sense of the words.  
''You're okay. Take deep breaths.''

''What happened.'' Likho croaked out, feeling the sickness return. Shit, for a moment there.. he shivered against the cold tiles, and the hands patted his back.  
''You stood and hit your head off the edge of the locker door. There's no blood. It's just the shock.''

Likho sucked in a shuddering breath and pushed himself into a sitting position, which made the room spin around him for a moment. The light was suddenly too bright, and he squinted at the shape in front of him, gingerly feeling the back of his head.  
''Are you okay?'' The shape was asking, and Likho nodded, ignoring the dizzy rush, and tried to push himself to his feet.  
The world tipped for a moment, and an arm caught his, steadying him. ''Sit down.''

''I'm fine.'' Likho insisted, but Kian frowned at him, crossing his arms. ''I'm saying that you're not. Sit down and take a few moments.''  
''I'm going home.'' Likho turned and staggered for the door, throat closed tight into a knot. He was out into the cold air in minutes, heading doggedly down the road.

It took him a few moments to realise that Kian was walking beside him. The man seemed to pretended to not know that Likho was even there, and Likho forced himself to bury all the bullshit in his head telling him that accepting help was weak, and held his tongue.

''It's a nice night.'' Kian said after a few moments, and Likho nodded.  
''What about your shift?''

''Sam agreed to wait til I get back. She understands.''

''You don't have to do this. I'm not an invalid.'' He groused as they reached his door, unable to shake the unpleasant idea that he needed help. Kian watched him with that quiet, unreadable expression. 

''So you'll help a homeless man, but you won't accept help yourself.''

''..Yes.'' He admitted after a moment, and Kian nodded, looking faintly amused. 

''Good to know. Will you be okay?''

''I'm fine, I just need to lie down.''

''I don't mean your head.'' 

Likho's hands fumbled with the key. Shit. Kian had noticed. He must have reacted to the pain without even knowing, instinctively ducking for cover. 

''Just need a rest.'' He said with his eyes on the door, and saw from the corner of his eye, Kian nod.

''Good night Likho.''

''G'night.'' Likho got into his apartment and stood under the shower til the grey of dawn started to creep into the room. He dozed fitfully on the couch til the buzzer woke him with a jolt. His clock read 7:30am, as he stumbled to the door, sluggish and overtired.

One look out the window and he buzzed the front door open, opening his door moments later to Kian standing in the landing, holding a paper container with two coffee cups nestled within.  
''Checking up on me?'' He asked, only half joking, stepping aside, and Kian headed into the apartment.

''You can't have slept much.'' He handed over the cup, and Likho took one, cracking open the lid and inhaling with a quiet sound of contentment. Black coffee, fresh from the pot. 

''I didn't.'' He motioned for Kian to sit down, sinking into the couch and sipping at the liquid. Kian took the other end of the couch, perched at the end of the seat with his own cup clasped between broad palms.  
''You off work now?''

''Lunch break.'' Kian admitted, and Likho took a moment for that to sink in. ''You're taking up your own lunch break to bring me coffee.'' He asked, and Kian shrugged.  
''Evidently.''  
Somehow, it sounded nearly warm.

''Thank you.'' Likho said, and Kian graciously inclined his head. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the sun brighten in the sky over the city.  
''Breaks over in 15 minutes.'' Kian said eventually, and stood. Likho stood too, following him to the door. ''I'll let you get ready for work.''  
''See you later.''  
Kian nodded, and the door clicked closed, and Likho was alone in his apartment.

 

''Wait. Wait wait WAIT.'' Enu help up a hand, shooing off some students who lurked nearby, listening in. They were standing in the yard, watching the students mill about, sitting in groups or kicking a ball around the field. Lunch-watch wasn't so bad when he was with Enu. The teacher had a cheerful, kind way about her, and it was both relaxing and exhausting to be around at the same time.

''Okay, go on. He walked you home and brought you coffee the next morning?''

''Yes.''

''And you saw him in his boxers? What was the..situation like?''

Likho took a moment to shoot a warning look to a student who dropped a candy wrapper on the ground, and held the glare til she had snatched it up and scurried off towards a bin.

''The situation was ...good.''

''Good??? Only good?''

''Muscle-bound. Chest tattoos.''

''Mmm... if you don't want him, can I have him?''

''Enu.''

''Seriously! This dry spell is the worst! Ugh, and if there's a cute guy you don't want then why can't I try and get my hands on those sweet chest-tats?''

Likho breathed heavily through his nose and decided not to answer that one.

Class was spent organising a basketball game, two games of soccer, and explaining that _no, climbing unto the top of the gym mats didn't mean I can't seen you Steven, get your ass back on the field and start the laps._  
His head hurt a little when prodded, but he was okay. 

Kian was the first person to help him through a flashback, he realised that evening, sorting through a pile of laundry on the kitchen table that had been needing folding for a week now. No, he was the only person that hadn't been scared off by Likho aggressively insisting that he was okay.  
He had the creeping suspicion that this felt like guilt, so he firmly ignored the thought, and went back to swearing at his mismatched socks.

 

He looked for Kian the next few visits to the gym, but apart from his photo appearing on the 'STAFF' board, that was all Likho saw of him.  
It was another few weeks later, strolling down North Street after an evening in the cinema to avoid being restless and alone in his apartment, that he met Kian again.

The sun was setting, and Likho was walking home, enjoying the evening. The city was quieter at this hour, and he liked that, settling into what felt like safety as he walked. A local community centre to his left boasted some sort of notice board full of missing pet notices or available classes or local plays and he stopped it to take a look, more on Enu's insistence that he got himself more involved with the community. 

He passed the window, and paused, doing a double-take.

Kian was sitting in the well-lit room on the other side of the glass. He was in a circle of youths, looking earnestly uncomfortable to be there, but he talked earnestly, despite his shoulders being hunched a little defensively.  
He was staring idly at the overflowing notice board when the door opened and a group of people poured from the room, chatting quietly among themselves. He didn't mean to head into the room the crowd exited, exactly. But curiously drove him as to what a homeless man was doing giving talks in a dingy community-centre well past its prime.

Kian was shaking the hand of a tough-looking old lady when Likho stepped through the door. The lady side-stepped Likho with an appraising look, and then he was alone with Kian as the man pulled on his coat.

''You didn't seem like the type.'' He commented, and Kian started, turning as he pulled the dark leather over his arms. When he saw it was Likho, he nearly seemed..pleased? Relieved? He didn't know, but it felt maybe a little good that someone was happy to see him.

''To give a talk at a community centre?'' Kian shrugged, zipping up his jacket. 'I'm not. But it's a good cause.'' Kian looked like he believed what he said, but his eyes were lidded, heavy and he looked tired from the speech, and Likho know how he fucking felt.  
Sometimes staying on your feet was the hardest part of the day.

''Come on.'' He jerked his head and turned to head back out the door. Kian followed, suppressing a yawn as they stepped out into the street. Likho couldn't help but yawn too, and Kian made a quiet entertained noise.

''Where are we going?''

''Alcohol. On me. You look like you could use it.'' Enu wanted him to try, well he was trying.  
Maybe he wasn't as gracious as he could be, but damnit he was trying.

The Cock and Pussy- the _Rooster and Kitten_ was an old sort of pub that was the style in the neighbourhood, all wooden beams and crackling fires that made the place look positively Medieval. The barman didn't help make it feel any less like home, with a rambling warm demeanour and a strange habit of remembering everyone's drink choices.  
They found a quiet table in the upper level of the bar, and nursed their pints, with a comfortable silence settling in between the odd sentence. Turns out they were both quiet.

In a quiet lull in the conversation, Likho found himself studying the lines on Kian's cheeks. They fell from his eyes to jaw in strange step-shapes and framed his face nicely, small dots of ink bridging his nose and brows. They looked good.  
It was only after a few moments that he realised that Kian's pint was untouched.

''The aim of a pint is to drink it.'' He said, and Kian inclined his head a little.

''I've never drank before.''

''...what?''  
''I became very religious quite young. Didn't believe in alcohol. Then I was homeless..''  
He shrugged his broad shoulders, and Likho nodded. Alcohol and homelessness too often walked hand in hand. He couldn't blame the man for trying to avoid that.

''What religion?''

''Apostles of the Goddess.'' 

''....The cult.'' Likho sat forward, elbows on the table, suddenly very away. A fire crackled in a hearth on the other side of the upper level, but all dozy thoughts had well and truly fucked off at that little bit of news. ''You're a fucking cultist.''

''No.'' Kian shook his head, and there was something in his eyes that hurt to look at. Kian looked angry, ashamed, but horribly, painfully earnest. ''I'm not that person anymore.'' He sat back and studied the ceiling, his pint untouched.  
Likho sipped his own. 

''I volunteered for the talk to help those children make different decisions. Maybe they'll make better choices than I did.''

''What made you leave your cult?''  
Something like shame crossed Kian's face, but he looked at Likho, and didn't look away. ''We converted people by isolating them from their family and making them dependant. We were..aggressive. Blindly obedient, and we hurt people. I used to think it was right, but...''

Likho's first instinct was to tell the man to go fuck himself, go FUCK himself and the horse he rode in on... but he couldn't. He couldn't say a goddamn thing. The people he had killed on deployment had families and lives just like Kian's victims. So what if he was acting on orders, he pulled the trigger and didn't feel a goddamn thing.

Kian was looking at him, and Likho found that he had to swallow hard suddenly. He wasn't looking at the young hateful cultist, he was looking at an older, gentler man who was trying to right his wrongs.  
He was looking at a man who was expecting him to leave.

Fuck it, he may as well be looking at himself.

''Why'd you do it?'' He asked, and Kian shrugged. ''They took me in when I had nothing. I repaid them with blind religious obsession.'' Kian sat forward and finally took a gulp of his pint. ''But I'm not him anymore. It's a long road, but I mean to make up for what I've done.''  
Likho nodded, and believed him. 

 

''Did you get an apartment?'' Maybe the pints had loosened his tongue, but exiting the bar at closing time, he voiced something that had been bugging him for a while.  
Kian shook his head. ''Not yet.''

''Still living out of your car? You've a goddamn job.''

''Don't have enough for a deposit. Plus the markets slim.'' There was a sly humour to Kian's voice, and Likho 'hmme'd in agreement, pulling his coat tighter around himself to ward off the chill.  
''Stay with me.'' He said before his brain had okay-ed it. ''Anytime you need. Can't be easy sleeping in a shit car.''  
Smooth, Likho. Cover up the nice offer by insulting his home. 

He expected a joke or a retort, but Kian just considered him gravely, and nodded. ''Thank you Likho.''  
Likho coughed abruptly and studied the lampposts.

 

''So.'' Enu was nearly quivering with excitement, her stacks of tests to correct lying abandoned on her messy desk as she beamed, settling her chin into her hands. Students shuffled by in the corridors outside, the last bell of the day knelling mournfully overhead.  
''You asked him out for a drink.''

''Yes. This is your bad example.''

''I know! I love it. So tell me everything.''

''He's running from a cult.''

She faltered. ''Wh-what?''

'' That Apostles cult. Used to be a huge fucking racist. Til he skipped town, that is.'' He leaned a hip against one of the desks, folding his arms over his chest, and Enu stared at him.  
''Oh my god.... oh my god! The ONE gorgeous guy in this town and he's a cultist, oh my god.''

''You've never even seen him.''

''But you have! He must look amazing if you're still inviting him to stay over!''

''In the spare room.''

''Sure. It starts off in the spare room and then it becomes a sordid fumble in the-''

''I'm going to coach the Baseball team. And you're going to never mention this again.''

 

Kian arrived a few nights later, and despite himself Likho was happy to see him.  
He found a battered pack of cards from somewhere and played long into the night. They talked sometimes, about music and places travelled and stupid shit Likho hadn't thought about in years.

''I played this with a gang of boys back before I joined the Apostles. We used to bet for gum.'' Kian said, studying his cards. 

''Played strip poker in boot camp once.'' Likho added to the conversation, pulling a jack of diamonds from the deck.  
''Really.'' Kian laid a card down on the tables between them, but his eyes were on Likho.

''Really. I Lost. Badly. Our CO walked in on me bollock naked in a room of mostly-dressed recruits.'' He made a quiet sound at the memory, and Kian set his cards aside, ducking his head to sound out quiet laugh.  
''Bad at strip poker. I'll keep it in mind.'' It was a throwaway comment, but Likho's ears perked up in a moment of uncertainty. Keep it in mind? Or _keep it in mind?_

Christ Likho, jerk yourself off and stop getting ideas about homeless men. 

The disturbing thing was that he heard that in Enu's voice. 

Kian stayed the next night, and the next. He stayed away for a few nights away that, seemingly uncomfortable with the idea of taking advantage of Likho's home. But during a cold night he came back. He brought food, or he cooked, something to pay back the kindness, even though Likho argued against it.  
In truth, he liked having Kian around. The quiet humming when they sat and watched the TV. His humour, the comforting sound of someone else walking around the apartment. Kian liked dishes with yams in them. He liked honesty and when someone tried. He could be as blunt and awkward as Likho, but he controlled his anger a lot better. He was a quiet, intense man, and there was an earnest kindness about him, seeping from his core, that Likho felt himself needing more of.

They sat up late nights when neither could sleep, drinking and making small talk.  
''My mother committed suicide a year after my father was killed.'' The kitchen light was dim, and the spiced wine made Likho's brain happy and stupid. The shadows fell over Kian's cheekbones, over his full lips and heavy brows and those permanently intense eyes.  
''The Apostles.. they were kind and welcoming. They introduced me to their faith, the Goddess.. are you a religious man, Likho?''

''I'd like to think I'm on good terms with whatever' out there.'' Likho said lightly, swirling the dregs of the wine around the glass- he didn't have wine glasses, so they were drinking out of whiskey tumblers.

''Even after I started to question what they were doing, I didn't leave because I was scared to break my connection to her. Leaving was the hardest thing I've done.''  
Likho nodded slowly. He got that. ''S'not about people telling you what to believe. You want to worship your goddess? Do it wherever you like.''  
Which sounded pretty wise, but his brain was wandering off, thanks to the wine.

Fuck, Enu was right, Kian was gorgeous. The sharp angles in his face, the bulk of his body.. maybe it was the wine but Likho wanted to kiss him, to taste the wine off his tongue. He wondered idly what Kian sounded like when he was fucking.  
No, bad idea. Something in his brain chimed. That way madness lies.

When he came back to earth, he realised that Kian hadn't broke the gaze. His gaze was a little lidded, and when Likho licked his lips, Kian's' eyes followed the motion. Fuck.  
He broke the gaze and snorted a laugh at the table head bobbing heavily. ''Your wine always make people get this deep?''

 

''So you were having a moment and then you...?''

''I left. Went to bed.''

Enu groaned, staring in frustration out at the lines of traffic in front of them.  
''Why? Perfect opportunity!''

''I don't know.''

''Likho. You're the worst.''

''One of us has a man in our apartment. It isn't you.''

''Ouch. Okay. Testy.'' She shot a mock-frown at him. ''So you get all drunk and deep with this guy who lives in your house sometimes. You go for walks and cook for each other. So what's the problem? He's an ex-cultist and you're an ex-soldier. Just start...'' She made a graphic gesture that made an elderly couple in the next lane stare, horrified.''..already!''

''Enu.''

''Don't Enu me! Ugh, you're so weird, you've got like no friends or dates and this one guy comes along and you won't even go for it!'' She groused, and immediately backtracked. ''Oh my god that sounded so bad, I'm so sorry...''  
She was still apologising when he dropped her off in front of her house.

His phone beeped as he was getting in the door. A text from Enu.  
_''Sorry. Didn't mean it that way. Ur great <3.'' _

He put the phone aside, and considered.  
Kian arrived at about 8, a pair of apple pies in his hand. They sat on the couch in companionable silence and ate the pies straight out of the tin.

''Hey.'' Likho offered, and Kian's head rolled on the seatback so he could look at Likho.  
''You're sort of a shit, but we get on well. I trust you not to clear the place out when I'm gone, so..'' He thumbed the spare key in his pocket, pressing his thumb to the metal edge and letting the slice of pain biting into his skin and centre him. 

''So...'' Kian prompted , and Likho huffed a breath, pulling the key from his pocket and holding it up, angled in Kian's direction.  
''So take it.''

There was a pause, and then Kian's fingers brushed his, taking the key with him.  
''You're giving me a key to your house.'' He said quietly, in that low, reverent rumble of his, and Likho nodded tersely, staring at the wall.  
''Likho.'' Kian breathed, and the catch in his voice had Likho snapping his head around. The man's eyes were wide, stricken. His throat worked as he swallowed, staring from the key in his hand to Likho's face.  
''You can't just give me a key to your house. ''

''It's my house, I'll do what I fucking like''

Kian shook his head, and sucked in a deep breath. ''Thank you Likho. I'll pay r-''

''Just stop thanking me, and we're good.''

There was a quiet chuckle from right, and Kian's arm rested lightly on his for a moment.

 

''So he's living with you. Officially.''

''I suppose.''

''Oh my god. Likho.''

The days snuck by.  
Enough days for Likho to realise that inviting someone into his house on a spur of the moment thing was... 

It was good. And strange. 

 

''Hey.''  
Likho lingered by Kian's door for a moment, tapping his knuckles lazily against the wooden frame. Kian was sitting hunched on his bed, flicking through an old catalogue for chessboards. There was a basket of brightly-coloured yarn balls on the open page, and a knitting needle lay between the paper, marking the pages.  
The room was small enough, room for a double bed, a wardrobe and a nightstand. He'd never used it till now- that would mean having guests over- apart from a few old combat boots in the cupboard. Now, Kian's clothes hung in the cupboard, a battered book lay on the Nightstand. The Art of War. A few notes and photos were pinned to a small corkboard propped up on the window. It wasn't much, but the room felt like Kian's room now.  
The walls were thin enough to hear Kian snore at night, and it was nice. It reminded him of being back in the barracks, hearing people breathe in their sleep all around. It helped the house to feel a little more like a home.

''Hey.'' Kian looked up with a quiet smile. He was in his pyjamas, mussed and content looking. Likho felt something tug in his chest, and that something was quickly jammed into the 'fuck off' section of his head.

''Heading to the market.'' He gestured in the vague direction with a jerk of his chin. ''Want to come?''  
Shit, goddamnit, he meant to ask if Kian wanted anything. _Come on, asshole, get your shit together._

Kian nodded, standing and stretching, His t-shirt rode up a little, giving a peek of a firm belly with a trail of dark hair sneaking down over the curve of the muscle and disappearing under the waistband of his pants. ''I could use a walk. Give me a moment to change.''  
Likho nodded and left him to change.

''That was quick.'' He commented, only a minute or two later, as Kian reappeared in a leather jacket and jeans, running a hand through his hair to sweep it to one side.  
''We're not all high-maintenance.'' He took the stairs first, holding the door open for Likho. Likho snorted, following him out into the sun. 

Across the road, the marketplace was buzzing, all open-air stalls selling little trinkets and fresh meat pies and preserves. Mutli-coloured scarves and wind-chimes swayed in the breeze. There was even a fortune-telling booth at the far corner.  
They meandered around, getting hotdogs loaded with sauerkraut and mustard and sitting on the edge of the fountain, watching the world go by. 

''Hey! Coach!'' A freckled redhead girl waved cheerfully from a gaggle of other redheaded children, and Likho nodded in her direction.  
''You seem like you'd be a terrifying coach.'' Kian commented, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Likho shrugged, licking the last bit of mustard off his thumb. 

''Maybe I am.''  
He pretended not to see Kian shoot him an appraising look. It felt too much like admiration.  
''What made you get into teaching?''

''Kids are tiny, annoying little shits. But I get to make sure they're okay for a few hours a week.''  
He caught the look Kian gave him, and scowled. ''Stop it, I'm not a fucking saint. I just-''

''-You just want to protect kids. Not saintly at all.''

''Good. I'm glad we're agreed.''

They sat side by side for a while longer, and they made pizza together back at the house. Elbow-to-elbow in the tiny wooden kitchen, fumbling over flour and oil and trying not to knock over the salt-and-pepper set that his mother had sent him a few years back.  
They ate at the table, and Kian's knee knocked off Likhos' in the cramped table, and settled there comfortably, a small anchor between the two of them.

Kian paused in eating to glance up and their eyes met for a moment. Likho swallowed a mouthful of molten cheese and swore quietly in his own mind. Kian was too-quiet and religious and possibly dangerous, he was sure of it. But on the other hand, Likho hadn't had sex in a while and his roommate was annoyingly attractive.

How fucked was he?

So very fucking fucked.

 

He was awake when he heard Kian sigh.  
Settling under his starched sheets, one had tucked under his head, he'd started to settle when Kian sighed again. This sigh had him turning his head towards the wall opposite. It wasn't the sort of sigh that came with a half-asleep stretch, no he knew that sigh. That sigh was throaty and lingered for a moment, and the soft creak of springs fit with the image in his hand of a man digging his heels into the mattress and straining up, fucking into his own fist.

The mental image had him fully awake in an instant, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. He propped himself up on an elbow, listening intently, and then after a moment, a quiet, urgent sound rumbled deep from a man's throat, like Kian was quietly enjoying the slow burn as he worked himself with his hand. Likho's cock twitched between his thighs, the seeds of arousal settling deep in his belly. Oh fuck, this shouldn't have been hot. He wasn't a fucking college kid, jacking off to his roommate, he had the internet, and all the porn it could provide, he didn't need to resort to-

The gravelly gasp from the next room had that thought promptly kicked to the side and he slid a hand down to his cock.  
Fuck, he shouldn't be doing this, it was ridiculous. He draped an arm over his eyes and started to stroke himself, rolling his hips leisurely to let his cock catch up with the rest of him.  
Kian was grunting quietly, his voice muffled through the wall, but he could imagine the man lying naked, desperately fucking his fist with a sheen of sweat over his skin. His dark brows drew together, mouth open and slack in Likho's mind. 

The sheets were suddenly too heavy, and he kicked them to the side, focussing on that image of Kian in his head. His muscles flexing gently as he moved, and Likho imagined the dark lines of the tattoos over his chest rising and falling harshly as he panted.  
Oh fuck... fuck, he needed to be in there. His own fist was slick with his own precome, desperately jerking himself to the sound of Kian's grunts. He needed Kian's hands on him, wanted to sink to his knees and take that cock in his mouth and--

He came over his own stomach with breathless sound, rutting feverishly into his own hand til his hips faltered. Panting, he lay there in blissful stupidity til the air had cooled his skin and he had the brainpower to realise that the noise from next door had stopped.  
Abruptly.  
There was a sinking realisation of the thin wall going down ways, and he groaned into his arm.  
FUCK.

 

The next day he showered and was gone to the gym before Kian got up. It seemed like the easiest way to desperately ignore the possibility he'd just made an arse of himself.  
When he headed back, home, the shower was humming quietly in the bathroom, and he slunk into the kitchen, kicking off his trainers and snapping the neck of his t-shirt to air it out. The living-room window creaked as it was pushed open and fresh air flooded the slightly stale air of the apartment. 

He leaned out the window, and decided to hope that Kian wasn't somehow aware that his flatmate jerked it to him the previous night.  
He turned around at a creak on the floorboards, and realised that he didn't hear the shower switch off. It was still running, but Kian was standing in the hall, a towel loosely curled around his waist. His skin was pinkening in places, the result of being thoroughly scrubbed, but water dripped from his hair, trickling down in rivulets over the dark skin. 

''Showers free.'' Kian said, an odd, quiet inflection in his voice, and Likho bit back an irritated groan. Oh, he knew, the bastard.  
The shower was scalding and he wanted it to be hotter. Running his hands through his sopping hair, he was about to give himself the mental read-out for being an idiot when a knock echoed on the door.  
''What.'' He threw a glance over his shoulder at a draught, and promptly froze.  
Kian was standing in the open doorway. He looked thoughtful.

''Can I come in?'' He asked loosening the towel with a small tug, and Likho promptly blanked. He nodded, turning in the shower to properly understand what was happening. Naked, Kian stepped into the shower. He stepped closer, under the spray of water, and then he was against Likho, his warm palms pressing and sliding against Likho's abdomen.  
''I heard you last night.'' Kian muttered against his mouth, still so serious, and then he was kissing him, squashing up close in the small shower. Likho's mind promptly stopped working.

Between Kian's mouth on his and the water pouring over his face, he could barely breathe, but Kian was kissing him, hands slipping around to setting on his hips, tongue sliding deftly into his mouth and Likho was briefly aware of the scratch of dark chest hair against him, and that maddening mouth, greedily taking what the man wanted from him. His brain kicked into gear then, and the quiet sound Kian made as fingers wound in his dark hair was enough to convince Likho that this was a good idea.

The next few minutes were frenzied humping in a shower with a duck-patterned shower curtain sticking to them at the worst moments.  
He wasn't sure who initiated what, but he was flopping down unto his bed, sopping wet, dragging the other man down on top of him. Their mouths found each other, sloppy and insistent. Kian propped himself up on one arm over Likho's head, straddling his thighs, and Likho hissed out a curse as Kian took them in his hand and jerked them both off. His pace was hard and relentless and Likho came with his fingers pressing furrows into the man's hips. They shuddered together, panting brokenly against each other's mouths. 

 

He woke up with the sheets uncomfortable damp underneath him, and with a large snoring man acting as his personal blanket. Did they have another shower? What time was it? He wasn't even sure, but Kian was heavy and warm and a cock was pressed against softly against his thigh, so he didn't think he minded.

Fuck.

He fucked his roommate. Fuck.

Kian grunted sleepily into his ear, shuffling in his sleep, so Likho decided to ignore the fact that he couldn't inhale all the way, and go back to sleep. His hand was idly resting on a perfect buttock, and he gave it an idle squeeze as Kian snorted quietly.

He was dragged back to consciousness about an hour later to the afternoon traffic blaring from the road, and Kian's hips moving steadily against his own. Half-yawning, he cracked open his good eye to see the other mans bright eyes, watching him with that quiet deadpan expression. But there was something hungry in his gaze this time, something scratching quietly behind the surface.  
''Afternoon.'' Kian muttered, beard scratching against Likho's chin as he kissed him. And no, Likho was not going to complain.  
''Mhm.'' He rumbled, craning his neck up to kiss the man.  
When they were done, Kian got them leftovers from the fridge and they lazed naked on the couch, eating and chatting.

 

Enu looked distraught. Her normally-controlled hair was damn near flyaway, and that was probably because she was running her fingers through it at a hundred miles per hour. ''I spent all NIGHT preparing myself for this stupid meeting with Casey Milligan's parents, and they don't even show! What kind of parent knows that their kid is being a bully and doesn't bother with it? Ugh, I swear..''

She sighed at a level that could only described as dramatic, and Likho wished that they were the only ones in the staff room. He was pretty sure every single person on staff knew that Casey Milligan- whoever the fuck that was- as a bully. So much for not gossiping about the kids to faculty staff.

''I need a drink. I need to get super drunk and not think about stupid school for a while. Hey! You have no life, right? You and your sexy roommate can come and meet me for drinks this evening!''  
''Because you want to spend time with me.'' He said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. Staff coffee tasted like percolated piss, but it was better than nothing.

''That too!'' She grinned brightly at him, and he felt an odd rush of affection for the weird ball of optimism that Enu was. ''And also because I want to check out the tasty roommate.''  
''Got plans.'' He kept his eyes firmly on the desk as Enu perked up, leaning over to try and catch his eye. ''Oh? Plans?''

Yes, he planned to fuck Kian over the back of the sofa. Kian had had him on the floor yesterday, so today was his turn. And he planned to make use of the time between the end of his work and the start of Kian's.  
''Welllll? Plans? Or PLANS?''

''I'm not discussing my sex life with you in a children's school.''

''So you're having sex!'' Enu exclaimed at a much too loud volume for a packed staff room and immediately went red as assorted teachers glanced over in quiet middle-class scandal.  
''Sorry! So you're having sex!'' She repeated, at a tone that wasn't too much better than the first.

''Not now that I know you're excited by the prospect.''

''I'm happy for you, big guy! ''

''Please don't be. It's unsettling.''

 

He parked in his spot, and felt a small comfort settle in his chest as Kian's' car was spotted across the street. Opening the front door, he was just up the stairs and inside his own door when Kian cornered him against the front door.  
So it turned out that soldiers that hadn't been laid in a long time and ex-cultists who hadn't had sex in years made good roommates for a reason. 

Kian's hands were pulling open his shirt as Likho spun them again, pinning Kian against the door in his place.  
They didn't quite make it to the couch, and Kian headed to work with a bad case of sex-hair.

He cooked an omelette for himself , called his mother for the first time in a while, and spent an hour on the phone, eating his cold omelette. The leftover potatoes were fried up and left in a Tupperware container for Kian. Then he tidied the apartment and went to bed. It was nice now that he wasn't living alone, and the sex was a good distraction, but....

But.

A month crawled by, and the sex was great, but Likho was starting to notice the pleasant rumble under Kian's laugh. And how it did a stupid thing in his chest and made him feel stupid emotions when he heard it. 

And that should have been good but it was the very opposite of good, because sex was great but he was starting to like this man and that was very much shit.

The kids had a half-day on Wednesdays, so he let them laze about in the sun for the last class. He sat in the shade and practised his breathing.  
He'd been having a good run. Things had been going well for a while, all the nerves buzzing faintly in the background, but now.. shit, Kian was in his apartment, in his bed, under his skin and that was dangerous, it was stupid, it was.. shit.

Shit.

At the end of the day, he met Kian outside the school. The afternoon was persistently bright and sunny as they headed down the road to the local church. It was a small cheery building nestled in-between two old-style townhouses, and exuded a warm welcome. Even so, Kian paused and lingered on the doorstep, face pulled into a tight look of discomfort.  
Likho leaned on the railing, and waited, and after a moment, Kian steeled himself and entered. The last time Likho had been to church, it was with his mother and there had been Christmas trees up everywhere. Now it was hilariously bare, with the normal stained-glass malarkey and pictures of serious saints etched in stone. 

Kian found a pew, and sank to his knees, hands clasped against his forehead as he leaned on the wooden back of the seat in front, and he prayed. Likho could see his lips moving sometimes, and he stayed there for a long time, every second he spent draining more and more tension from his body. He didn't know what Kian was praying for, but he knew that stance. He'd been in it himself a few times, and he could just guess the prayer.  
_Please forgive me_. 

Likho sat beside him and closed his eyes, and thought about faith for a bit, and left Kian to his meditations. He was startled back to waking a while later, heart pounding in his chest. A hand had touched his shoulder and he jolted back, causing Kian to pull his hand away. The man looked better. At peace. Some of the lines on his forehead had smoothed a little.

''Sorry, are you okay?''  
''I'm fine.'' He pushed himself to his feet, and they headed out of the church. ''Well? How was it?''  
''Better. It's strange not praying how I was taught. But you were right, my faith is my own. She understands they were not doing her work. ''

Likho wondered silently how someone that religious could be so filthy in bed.  
''Sounds good. '' He paused for a moment, considering. ''They got a Sunday service too.''

''I'd like that. Thank you, Likho.''  
He didn't like the way Kian looked at him. No, he didn't like that he _did_ like the way Kian lookd at him. 

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

That evening he walked Kian to his job and while Kian got on with his shift, Likho got on the rowing machine and worked out til his shoulders ached and he felt weak. The uneasiness was clustering at the base of his skull, spreading down his shoulders into his limbs.  
''That's not a balanced workout.'' A blonde woman he recalled seeing at the front desk walked by, yoga mat under her arm, and he blinked the sweat out of his good eye and stared sourly up at her.

''Never said I needed a balanced workout.'' He rasped, pushing himself to his feet and staggered to the changing rooms. He was sitting on the benches in his track sweats, breathing hard and uneven when Kian entered.  
''B said you were acting weird. You okay?''

''I'm fine.'' He ground out, wanting to push Kian back out of the door. He needed peace, he could get over this if he was alone, it was fine, he was fine..

''Do you ever say anything different?'' There was a displeased edge in Kian's gaze as he looked Likho up and down, and Likho suddenly felt helpless under that gaze.  
''Fuck off.'' He muttered, and it was out of his mouth before he realised, and Kian's eyes flashed in anger. Why couldn't he just fuck off? Just go, get the fuck out, come back when you want to get laid, but stay away otherwise. It felt vulnerable and it was terrifying, closing his throat and making anger spike as a defence, hot and sharp in his chest.

''That what you want?''

No. God, no, anything but that.  
''Yes! Fuck off!'' He spat, and for a horrible second he knew he'd fucked up, Kian was going to go, driven away like all the others. But Kian's jaw square, tensed angrily, and he stepped quietly into Likho's space. But he couldn't stop.  
''I don't need your help, Apostle, so stay in your fucking lane.''

He rose to his feet, tense and shaken, and Kian stepped so close he could feel the other mans breath on his chin. Kian looked angry. More than angry, he looked like he was about to punch him.  
''No. So you might want to get used to it.'' He stepped back, looking Likho over one more time, and leaving the room.  
Likho, shoved everything in his bag and headed home, on breaking point.

These nights were the worse. The shrink had explained PTSD to him as a form of anxiety. Some days were good- some days were great, but change or stress or little things could pile up and then he couldn't handle the bad days when they came. And worst part was anything could bring on a bad day- a loud noise, a smell, anything. But on his good days, the transition to a bad day wasn't as bad as when it had been slowly building for a while.

It felt like his head was blurring and everything was too loud and too close and the fear transitioned to aggression. Everyone was the enemy. Innocent eye-contact in the street became a threat. All the old thoughts that he thought he had gotten past crept up slowly.  
Blood roaring in his ears, he barrelled home, shoulder-slamming more than a few people to get there. He got in his front door with yells of 'Dick!'' ringing in his ears.

Slamming his front door, he made it to the couch, forcing himself to breathe. His lungs full to bursting, it felt like he'd never gotten a full breath of air in his life. He was safe. The windows were locked .The doors were locked. He searched the apartment and he was alone.  
No Kian, no no-one.  
_You're safe, you're okay. You're okay._

He sat on the floor for about an hour, shaking and memorising the paths of exit from the house. It always calmed him down to know he had a way out.  
When the wood floor got too uncomfortable to sit on, he pushed himself up and got himself a glass of water. He managed a mouthful and left the glass on the counter, and went to bed.  
The bad dreams were never the worst part- it was the waking up and realising that he'd been asleep. The rush of panic and adrenniline, scanning the room for any attackers.. when you were a light sleeper, this happened multiple times a night.  
He lay awake for the longest time, listening to Kian coming back to the apartment. He waited for Kian to pack his bag and leave, but he didn't. The tv flicked on and there was the creak of a body flopping down on the couch .  
Likho wanted to go in and ask him what the fuck was wrong with him, why he was still here, but he didn't.

He lay and breathed and that was all he could manage. But the air wasn't coming properly, and he curled his hands into fists in the sheets and breathed and breathed and it felt like he was coming apart, the anxiety thundering and everywhere and crowding him into a corner of himself, small and insignificant and unable to move.  
But he could breathe. So he lay and breathed and breathed and breathed and waiting for it to be over.

He must have made a sound, and he jumped at a touch to his shoulder, but a hand rubbed his shoulder soothingly, and arms gathered him close, loose enough to break away if he want to. The man was beside him, hauling him into his arms, his forehead resting in the crook of the mans neck, held close and safe as he shook and breathed. A mouth was resting on the crown of his head, buried in the hair. It muttered quietly sometimes and Likho couldn't quiet catch what it meant, but it didn't matter. 

The soothing rumble of a voice kept him grounded, kept him whole. Everything still pressed down, but now it didn't feel like such a bad thing to be so small. Someone had him, and they weren't letting him go.

He knew why this was happening, too. Kian was too close. Too close and it was setting off warning bells and it scared him, and that made this shit happen because it was so hard to think of someone not as the enemy. Enu was his best friend and they barely saw each other outside of work until about a year ago. 

But Kian.. 

The night was a bad one. Having someone there didn't cure mental illness. But when Kian sat back, saying that he was going to get him water, Likho shook his head against the sweaty curve of Kians skin.  
''Stay.'' He croaked, hating the weakness, hating the idea, but unable to bear being alone.  
Kian slid under the blankets and spent the night with him, the first night spent under the same sheets.  
Likho barely slept, but every time he dozed and snapped back awake, Kian would run a hand down his back or squeeze his hip, and it would bring Likho back down to earth.

Too exhausted, he couldn't find the words to thank Kian in the morning, so he bumped their foreheads together. They dozed til noon, and when Likho felt strong enough to sit up, Kian's hands guided him to the shower.

He waited for Likho to ask him to join him, and Likho didn't so Kian gave him his privacy. He was torn between asking for him to stay and pushing him away, but Kian had stayed, despite everything. Sooner or later, Likho told himself, letting the water run over him. Sooner or later, if he kept pushing people away, he'd be alone even more than he was.  
What frightened him was that Kian leaving would hurt as much as it would be a blessed relief.

Dry, he padded quietly out of the shower and Kian was waiting there with a cup of tea. Standing barefoot in the kitchen still in his pyjamaes with his beard sticking out at odd angles, his mouth soft and sleepy still. Kian walked towards him, calm and slow, and a warm cup was pressed into his hands. His hands lingered over Likho's and Likho stayed still til the hot ceramic scalded his palms.

It was terrifying. And he wanted more.

 

''I signed up when I was 18. My father was killed when I was 17, and I couldn't..'' Likho scowled and fell silent, and Kian let him. They were sitting on the couch, eating the takeaway Chineese food.  
''I couldn't deal with it. I thought I could bring back a medal or two like he did. I was good, and the anger turns into something good. You kill someone and it's good, you start laughing at shit.. at shit that isn't funny but you fuck yourself up so damn much that being a peice of shit is good. I got home and I wasn't able to handle it. So I went again. And I kept going til I..''

He swallowed, and started again. ''.. I started thinking I was dreaming in the middle of missions. Your friends die and you laugh because you think you'll wake up and see them at base and then you get back to base and their beds are empty-'' He choked off there, and a heavy hand pressed gently over his own hand. He fought the urge to shake it off, and let himself accept the touch.

''So I went to the shrinks and I told them I needed something to sleep, but they'd been watching me. Sent me back home. There was a debrief and suddenly I was a civillian. Learned to shop during the quiet times during the day, got a job where I could protect children instead of kill them. I get by. Head gets bad sometimes. But I can deal. I was dealing.''

''Untill I moved in.'' Kian said quietly, and Likho shot him a look, drawing a quiet huff from the other man. ''Do you know how many vetrans are homeless? I know the signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Likho. Keeping people at arms reach is the least of your symptoms.''

He paused, and nodded tersely.  
''I'm trying.''

''I know. So tell me what you want.'' He glanced up sharply, but Kian's face was deadly serious.  
''I don't want you to go.'' He managed to say, and Kian nodded quietly, waiting.

What did he want? He wanted to spend the evenings on the couch next to Kian, watching some shit on tv or going for a walk, or playing cards or fucking lazy and slow. He wanted Kian's throaty chuckles and sharp humor and the way he blended easily into the apartment. He wanted to look at Kian and feel whatever a fucking normal man would feel, instead of all this daring to hope and smothering the hope with fear and anger. 

''I want you to stay.''

Kian kissed him. They didn't do anything but kiss that night, and Likho went back to his own bed. But a few nights later, it was slower, gentle, the closest he'd ever get to the phrase 'making love'- which was a horrendous saying as it was. Kian held his face in his hands hand he pulled Kian close and held him there as their bodies rocked together, revelling in how it felt to just be close to someone.

Later he went to go back to his own bed, but Kian shifted over, shoving a pillow across for him, so he settled there. Waking up to Kian's face was as good an experience as it was terrifying.

 

''There's a help group for vetrans at the community centre.'' Kian said one night, draped across Likho's back. His beard itched the skin as he murmured. Likho tensed the shoulder nearest him, his shoulder-blade jabbing Kian in the chin. He got a gentle bite for his trouble, and snorted quietly into the pillow.

''I know.''  
The pamphlet had had in his drawer for months, buried under a pile of takeout menus like somehow it wouldn't exist if he piled enough shit on top of it.  
Kian didn't push him, but his free hand squeezed Likho's hip. 

They went to Church on Sundays, and Kian went to more talks at the Community centre. Likho attended his first meeting alone.  
He didn't say a goddamn thing for the entire meeting, but leaving that evening, something that felt like stress unravelled a little in his head. 

The weeks crept on. Kian's toothbrush next to his in the sink. The new additions to the spice-rack. The radio thrumming, low and mournful in the morning. Kian muttering prayers under his breath before sleep.  
Likho paused in sorting out whose socks were whose, and realised with a sharp pang of alarm that this felt normal.  
He took a moment to deal with that. And when Kian brushed by him in the kitchen that night, a hand lingered on his back for a moment, and he let himself accept it.

 

The weather got colder. Heavy sweaters and warm kisses under piles of blankets.  
One bored Sunday, Kian suggested a walk to the docks. Bundled up in coats, they ended up down by the shore to watch the waves for the afternoon.  
Likho's hair whipped around his face as he stood on the pier, staring out over the sea. He tucked his hands into the heavy black coat that had belonged to his father, and squinted past the white strands flapping in front of his face. The coat was an old, stiff affair. It was a little tight on the shoulders, but he'd wear it til the threads ran bare.

He turned his back on the rolling waves and walked along the peir, watching the couples strolling with their children or dogs, the odd person sitting to read on a bench just out of reach of the sea spray. Newspapers and scarves snapped in the breeze and he felt his cheeks grow rosy in the sting of the salt air. Kian was a few steps ahead of him, caught awkwardly in a conversation with an elderly woman and her granddaughter who stopped to tell him that his 'tattoos were nice'.

 _''Its hard to let people in, Likho.''_ The councellor had said that week. _''It's about small steps. The important thing is that they allow you your space to heal, and expect nothing more than you can give. ''_  
Kian turned to look to Likho, and motioned him forward, and then they were all standing by an Ice-cream vendor before he realised it. The girl, a teenager of maybe 16, was choosing flavors at breakneck speed. A cone was pushed into his hand and they stood around with the old lady and her daughter, being cheerfully chatted at. Likho had no idea what the conversation was about.

The coconut crunched uncomfortably between his teeth in a way that reminded him too much of sand, and the taste soured in his mouth. Before he could even look for a trash can, Kian reached over, taking the cone from him and pressing his own half-eaten cone in place. It was cinnamon flavoured. The old lady looked a little confused, but nothing was said. Kian continued the conversation, eating the coconut cone.

Likho stared at him, quietly frozen, the cinnamon melting and dripping down over his knuckles before he even realised. Such a small, effortless gesture, and he felt like he'd been speared right in the gut.  
_Fuck._

When the rain started to fall in driving sheets, they said their goodbyes to the women and scrambled for a shelter, racing back for the apartment through the torrent as their hair matted to their heads and their shoes filled with cold water. Half- drenched they made it back to the apartment and stripped in the hall. They crammed, shivering into the small bath, skin warming blissfully in the too-hot water.

His knuckles were still sticky with cinnamon.

Kian's hand rested idly on the side of the bath, and after too much deliberation, Likho reached over and rested his hand over it. He firmly pretended like he hadnt even noticed his own action, and after a moment, Kian's fingers laced with his.  
They watched a movie that night, pointing out the stupid bits, their hands clasped on the couch.

Shit, fuck, Likho had the sneaking suspicion that this was what love felt like.

The bad days still came. Kian still prayed, heading to church at odd hours, trying to rekindle the old faith. Likho still had days where he couldn't touch Kian, where they went food shopping at 4am to avoid the crowds, where work was almost too much for him.

But the little flat with its warm wood panelling and blue-and-yellow decor, cosy interiors overlooking the market, was a safe haven.  
The help-group meant that frenzied self-destructive workouts at 2am were less frequent. An online forum for people who had escaped from cults helped in its own way too, and Likho'd often doze off to the glow of a laptop screen beside him as Kian tapped away at the keyboard.

The winter crept in, cold and bitter, and the last day before term ended, it snowed. A class of 32 hopeful faces gazed at him from the moment he set foot in the gym, and he sighed and pushed open the doors to the field.  
''Go put your coats on first.'' He warned, and managed to herd the excited group back into the changing rooms to wrap up warm first.

A snowman was made, with a stick-nose and a frowny mouth.  
''It's you!'' One of the kids told him, pushing a single stone into place. Likho stared at his one-eyed effigy and raised an eyebrow.  
''It looks like me.''

It didn't. But the children looked happy enough. 

In the hall later, standing around the walls and watching the kids sing along to Christmas carols and eating little chocolate santas, Enu made her way over to him, eyes bright as he folder her hands around a paper cup of hot chocolate.  
''Hey. The others are going out for drinks tonight. Little staff party! You coming?''

Likho shook his head. ''Next year.'' He shrugged it off, and Enu nodded, hiding her disappointment behind a smile. ''Okay big guy.''

''Come over.'' He said after a pause, taking a bite off the head of a chocolate reindeer. Enu perked up, bewildered. It was endearing, really.  
''Really!?? To your house!? Will Mr. Chest Tattoos be there? With his tattoos?''

''I would hope.'' He said, a tad dryly, and she beamed. ''Yeah! I'd love to! Will I bring something?''  
He shrugged, and she clapped her hands, undeterred. ''Oh I can't wait! About eight then!?''

She spent the rest of the Carol Service grinning at him from across the room.

 

He got home with a handful of Christmas cards from the kids, a box of chocolates, and a candle. Who thought he'd want a candle?  
They were wrong, but fuck it, he owned a vanilla-scented candle now.  
''You working tonight?'' He sent the candle on the mantle, setting the cards down on the coffee table in a pile. Kian looked up from a crossword puzzle, leant over the kitchen counter as he frowned at a word clue.  
''No. '' The question was in the answer, and Likho struggled for a few seconds as the radio crooned behind him.

_I really can't stay  
But baby, it's cold outside..._

''I invited a friend over.'' Freind. He hadn't called someone a friend aloud in years. But it felt.. nice. Not that he'd admit that aloud.  
''She wants to meet you.''  
Kian stilled, watching him intently. 

''She wants to meet your roommate.'' Kian repeated, and Likho gave a cross between a shrug and a nod.  
Kian stared at him, and he stared at the wood panelling on the walls with the little stencilled yellow flowers.  
There was a quiet moment, and the implication hung in the air between them. Meeting the friends. As more than _Persons._

''That seems a little odd-'' The clever, quiet amusment was rumbling low in Kian's voice, and Likho squinted at the flowers like they'd combust.

''Make me ask aloud and you're on the couch for a week.''

''I have my own bed.''

 _''Alvane.''_  
There was a quiet snerk in response and he felt the corners of his mouth begrudgingly twitch upwards.  
''I wouldn't miss it.'' Kian went back to his crossword, and Likho felt the knot of nerves soothe slowly in his chest.

At 8 on the dot, Enu appeared on the landing, rosy-cheeked and clutching a container of apple turnovers. ''Hey you!'' She beamed at Likho, and her eyes widened as she laid eyes on Kian. ''Oh, hello! You're Likho's person!? Oh my GOD! Look at you! ''  
She shook herself out of the stare, bright red, and handed Likho the container, hurrying it to warm himself by the fire.

''This is so cosy! Oh my god, this is not what I expected. Maybe a basement with spiders or something, but this? Wow!'' She stared around the room from the couch as Likho handed her a glass of mulled wine, hopping a knee the way she always did when she was excited or nervous.

''And you're Kian! I have heard SO much about you. It's pity you're taken, half the staff must be in love with Likho's mystery man at this point.'' She chattered on, and by the door, Likho felt the sudden urge to escape from his own damn house. _'Taken'._ Really, Enu.  
Kian had gone still beside him for a few seconds that seemed to drag on forever, and then he nodded quietly. Likho was the only one who noticed, because Enu was in full chat mode.

They chatted the evening away, with Enu complimenting everything from the food to the decor.

''You guys need to come over to mind next. I can't cook, but I can bake! We can have a dessert thing. This was so nice. Am I talking too much? Wine always does this. You two are such a cute couple. Merry Christmas!'' She rambled breezily as they waved the tipsy woman into her taxi.

And then the door closed and they were alone. Standing in the small hallway, Kian raised an eyebrow.  
''We're a cute Couple.'' He repeated.

''So it seems.'' 

''So it does.''

They got back upstairs, and spent the evening doing activities that were definitely or definitely not in the Christmas spirit, depending on exactly how you viewed Christmas. 

They did that the next Christmas too, after a work party. But it was harder to spark spontaneous sex when a judgmental pet cat was always around to stare at the worst of moments.

The pictures of them on the walls, the t-shirts swapped between them, falling asleep on the couch with other's feet in their lap....  
The world settled into a rhythm, and Kian was part of that rhythm. 

The Nissan was repainted, and sold. A charity for cult escapees was donated to each month.  
The bad days came and went, but Kian stayed. 

All in all, any time the question came up of how they met, Kian enjoyed saying ''He keyed my car.'' by way of explanation, and despite the fact that he hated explaining the story to baffled colleagues or friends, Likho was pretty glad that he keyed that fucking car.

**Author's Note:**

> So this originated by an 'OTP Meeting in a Bad Scenario' post on Tumblr, and Dark-Rose89 wanted a fic in which the two met when one keyed the others car for stealing their parking space and I thought it would be a fun quick drabble thing to write and then a week and 13k words later, I have escaped. And here's the result.  
>  Shout-out to FramesontheWall for listening to me bitch incessantly about this fic, and offering pointers :D 
> 
> Also, check out her amazing art for this fic!   
>  http://framesfanart.tumblr.com/post/143579546180/some-possible-character-designs-for-we-found-love 


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